


things you said when you were scared and things you said I wasn’t meant to hear

by winterysomnium



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, slightly gorey imaginery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4637115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterysomnium/pseuds/winterysomnium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story is set after Bruce got lost in time and Tim found out and Dick and Tim’s relationship was not the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things you said when you were scared and things you said I wasn’t meant to hear

**Author's Note:**

> kaciart asked: Okay so I was all set on just using the frst one and then I READ THEM and this is mean and HARD. SO, DickTim in 18 or 20

Tim got transcribed, gasps to molecules to codes climbing stars, he _had_ to have been, from one planet to the other and he thinks there’s a port near the gates, of Gotham, of the bay, _wherever_ , wherever they keep a mouth that knows the code and something’s wrong, something caved in and then out and he’s stuck with Jupiter’s gravity, Saturn’s constriction, he _has_ to be, he’s never felt heavier than this.

Resettled.

Reshaped as Dick dips the corner of a bed, warms the plastic, flat shoulders of his phone, says, as if he’s rewriting a script: “ _Hey_ , Babs. Have you heard from Tim lately, by any chance? Like, today.” and if the house was louder, Tim wouldn’t have heard the sinking of vowels, disappointed, the brick, thought composure, built up, the “an e-mail? What did it say? Because – because I think –”

And talking soothes Dick, Tim knows, found out because it soothes him too, from seas to rivers to lakes, a frequency of _I’ve got you, whoever you are, I’ve got you, for as long as I have to, (I do)_ but those lines are drying out, as if they’re flowers, wilting, left to be thin and thinner under a tower of paper spines, a ghost and nothing about Dick’s words, their shapes, the crook in their corners, the washed out tone, nothing about them soothes Tim, anymore.

(And nothing soothes him about dry, scentless flowers, either.

Nothing at all.)

“I think he needs to see someone. About the e-mail, the things in it. About – about _Bruce_.” and there’s the prohibition, the taboo, the word they won’t say and Tim wants to open his mouth and speak nothing but that, Bruce Bruce Bruce Bruce as if he lost his language and it’s all he knows and _it_ is all he knows, _Bruce is alive_ and we’re the ones dying and the audacity of Dick, to look like he’s talking through a mouthful of glass, like _he’s_ the one refractured and rebuilt and left on Jupiter, left there to weight everything he doesn’t on Earth, the _audacity_ of him, to think Tim’s inside is nothing but scattered, nothing but confused.

“Do you remember Dr. Spencer?” he asks and Babs might, Tim doesn’t, but now, now he knows (more).

(He’s not the one scattered, he’s not the one who’s nothing but fear and hope and something dizzy, holding onto everyone’s thoughts, waiting for the tremors to settle, for the ground to still.)

Dick is.

(And Tim wishes, _thought_ he’d be happier about it. About the confidence, the _if nothing, I know_ this. But the weight, it doubles. It pulls, heavier, and Dick’s not even _his_ , might (won’t) ever be and yet –)

Tim’s steady, on his feet.

He doesn’t need to see _anyone_.

(All he has to see is proof.)  


End file.
